Moving On
by PinkFairy727
Summary: Angsty, future fic. How Jack and Ianto cope when they are finally seperated by death. Contains spoilers for Exit Wounds. Jack/Ianto
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: Inspired by the Rascal Flatts' song Movin' On.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood. boo, hiss**

**Moving On**

**Chapter 1**

Within a few weeks of joining Torchwood Three, each new recruit encountered the ghost: the spectre, the spirit. Each new team gives it a new name.

There are only two people there who know it's real name.

Gwen tells them stories about when he was alive; walking in on him and Jack in the hothouse, the legendary fights he had with the then team doctor, the best coffee in Cardiff.

Jack doesn't tell stories, not at first. He can't find the words to do him justice.

Martha has no stories.

On the rare occasion that she comes to visit Jack, the rest of the team ask what she knows about the ghost. She always gives the same reply.

"He loved Jack, and Jack loved him. That's all that matters."


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: Inspired by the Rascal Flatts' song Movin' On.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood. boo, hiss**

**Chapter 2**

The first time Ianto saw Jack again, he was in his office.

Ianto had found him sitting in the chair behind his desk, running one of his ties through his fingers. Ianto recognised it as the one he had been wearing the night before he'd died.

The last time they were together.

Jack had removed the tie from around his neck – along with the rest of his clothes.

The tears were rolling down Jack's face as he gazed at the wall, lost in a memory.

Ianto reached out to touch him, wanting nothing more than to hold Jack, to kiss his face, to tell him that everything would be ok.

His hand went straight through Jack's shoulder.

The tears were streaming down both of their faces now.

Ianto moved to stand in front of Jack. He leant forward so that their foreheads would have been touching.

Jack's gaze had shifted slightly; he was now looking straight through Ianto's eyes.

They stayed that way until long after the Moon had set and the Sun had started to rise over Cardiff again.

* * *

Gwen refuses to let Jack empty Ianto's flat on his own. She insists on going with him. This way Jack doesn't have to be alone and anything Jack wants to keep does not end up in storage.

Ianto wants to hug Gwen and kiss her.

It is Gwen who finds the Christmas present Ianto had bought for Jack, already wrapped up and hidden in the back of the cupboard.

Ianto is thankful that Gwen is there to hug him and comfort him. He is even more thankful when she is there on Christmas Day and Jack opens the collection of original Vera Lynn records he had restored before breaking down in Gwen's arms.

* * *

Ianto knows they see him sometimes. They tell tales of seeing a tall man with blue eyes and a suit hanging around the coffee machine. Some claim to have seen him wandering around the archives, muttering in Welsh and shaking his head, as if in despair.

He watches Jack smile to himself, as his team compare their tales, knowing his fingers are stroking the old stopwatch he carries in his pocket – always.

Ianto knows they see him sometimes, but he doesn't care. He isn't here for them.

He's here for Jack.

* * *

Almost since the beginning they had been talking to him, trying to persuade him to move on.

He knew they were right. He couldn't stay here forever. He was there for a limited time.

Each day he was there, the Hub felt a little less like home.

But he knew the time to leave was not now.

They promised they would look after him, just like they always had. Owen had literally been patching him up since his first day at work. An alien artefact he had been handling exploded, leaving him with slight burns to his right arm.

Tosh was a revelation after the team discovered Lisa. She brought him coffee, asked him if he was okay, dragging him away from the Hub, making sure he slept and was eating when the hours got too long.

He had trusted them in life, now he trusted them in death. He knew they would guide him safely in the end.

* * *

Ianto sits on the top step of the ladder watching Jack sleep.

This is what he misses most. Lying awake, watching Jack sleep. The responsibilities and the demands placed on his Captain during his waking hours erased, forgotten.

He misses the warmth and protection he felt when they both squished into Jack's tiny bed, or when they fell into the larger one back at his flat, a tangle of limbs and love.

Jack is muttering in his sleep. Ianto immediately jumps down to his side, forgetting that he can't offer him any comfort until his hand fails to come into contact with Jacks arm.

He stands helpless as Jack shouts and screams in his sleep.

He involuntarily jumps back as Jack jerks awake, one word on his lips before it is swallowed by his tears, _Ianto._

* * *

The morgue is always cold. Owen and the other medics he had worked with always kept it meticulously clean. For this Ianto was thankful, always spending as little time down there as possible.

Jack is spending more and more time on the autopsy table recently. Usually it only takes him a few minutes to revive, but occasionally it takes a bit longer.

Ianto still sits with him as he waits for him to come back.

This never gets any easier.

Knowing Jack is going to come back to life and believing it as he lies unconscious on the autopsy table are not always the same thing.

Ianto sits and places his hand over Jack's, willing Jack back to consciousness, waiting for him to wake up and save the world again.

* * *

Ianto stands proudly leaning against the door to the boardroom. Jack has finally started to tell the team stories about the two of them.

Gwen sits as enthralled as the rest of them, happy to learn about what Jack and Ianto shared outside of work and just happy to hear Jack say his name again.

He tells them about the time the two of them went camping.

Ianto was still apprehensive about the countryside, after the team outing to Brecon Beacons. So that night, instead of going to sleep, they lit a campfire and stayed awake all night, watching the stars.

He tells them that one night every week, rift activity allowing, they would curl up on Ianto's sofa and watch one of the old black and white films they both loved.

Once a month the whole team would squish themselves into Ianto's flat and over pizza and beer, the team would rip-apart the latest science fiction movie.

Gwen smiles at the memory of Team Torchwood Film Nights. Of Tosh and Owen bickering over who had the remote, of Jack hogging the popcorn to himself until Ianto would lean over and jab Jack in the ribs until he would let the rest of them share.

Somebody suggests that they should reignite this tradition.

Ianto walked over to Jack and pressed a kiss neither of them could feel, into Jack's hair.

This was the day that Ianto knew Jack would, eventually, be ok.

* * *

He knows Jack has other lovers again – and he is grateful for it. Ianto knows that these one-night stands are not about affection, but about loneliness, comfort, and the need to feel alive again.

He is glad that, for a few hours, Jack can forget about all he has lost over the years, can forget about the Rift, can forget about _him._

Yet, it is only ever a few hours before he is back on a rooftop, brooding and remembering before the Rift alarm or Gwen can persuade him to come down again.

Ianto sits with him, wishing he could set off the alarm himself, or ring Gwen. Anything to help Jack escape his thoughts.

He knows he can't.

He's tried.

So he does what he can. He sits with his head on Jack's shoulder, pretending not to notice when Jack moves his hand and squeezes exactly where his own should be.

* * *

The voices were getting more persistent.

Ianto didn't need them to point out that Jack was laughing more frequently, or that he had started to flirt with people again. He didn't need them to tell him that the sparkle had returned to his eyes. Nor that he was smiling his genuine Harkness Mega-Watt trademark grin, not the weak imitation that had adorned his features for too long.

He knows he doesn't have long now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: Inspired by the Rascal Flatts' song Movin' On.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood. boo, hiss**

**Chapter 3**

Jack and Ianto walked around the Hub together for the last time.

They both knew this was goodbye.

Jack kept up a running commentary throughout the entire tour.

He recollected the times the team had walked in on them after hours; Gwen in the hot-house, Owen in the boardroom, Tosh in the Information Office early one morning. He remembered the time Ianto had filled the centre of the Hub with candles and they had danced all night to Gracie Fields, and the many nights they had spent in the bunker under his office.

Jack sat in the chair at his desk, where many a night, Ianto had found him, thinking and remembering.

He opened a draw and pulled out a tin full of old photographs and memories.

Ianto stood and looked over his shoulder as he glanced through each team photograph. A tradition Jack had insisted on since he had hand-picked his first team.

Ianto was at the far edge of the first photograph, an outsider. He moved further inwards with each photograph, closer to the centre of the photograph, to the heart of the team, to Jack.

Jack replaced the team pictures and kept looking through the box until he found the selection of photographs he was looking for.

There were only a few photographs.

The first had been taken on New Years Eve 2008. Snow had been falling steadily all day, coating the bay in a white blanket.

Ianto had his arms around Jack's neck, while Jack's arms were wrapped around Ianto's waist.

Rhys had taken the picture, capturing them both laughing at something Jack had said, seconds before Ianto had pulled them into a kiss.

The second had been taken at Martha's wedding. Neither of them had noticed Craig, the team technical specialist at the time, creeping around the edge of the dance floor, determined not to be spotted or to crash into any tables on the way.

Too engrossed in each other as they danced they didn't realise he had taken a photo until they both found a framed copy on their desks a few days later.

The final photograph made Ianto laugh. It was a four-shot Polaroid, taken on a rare weekend away.

Jack had bundled Ianto into the photo-booth, where they spent half an hour pulling silly poses. They would have stayed longer but an irate middle aged man had burst in, demanding they grew up and allowed people who actually needed to use the photo-booth to use the machine.

Jack sighed before placing the photographs back in the box. He then pulled the silver stopwatch out of his pocket.

He ran his fingers lovingly over the cover one last time, before bringing it to his lips.

He kissed it once before placing it on top of the photographs.

He murmured two words before he closed the box and replaced it back in the draw.

"_Goodbye, Ianto."_

* * *

Ianto moved in front of Jack and, for the first, and only time since he had died, allowed himself to press a kiss to Jack's lips.

He stepped away from Jack and smiled. Owen and Tosh were standing waiting for him. Tosh kissed his cheek while Owen clapped his shoulder.

They both smiled and nodded reassuringly at him as each took one of his hands in theirs.

Ianto sighed, whispering his final goodbye to Jack, as he allowed his friends to lead him away into the eternal darkness.


End file.
